Dementia. This small but big word entered my life a few months ago. Grandpa. The two words now go hand in hand as the changes begin. This week we found out the twins are a boy and a girl. I started my excited round of phone calls immediately and one was to my Grandpa and Grandma.
Grandma was at work. I should have known right then to call back later but I’m still getting used to this whole Dementia thing. Right now it seems to come and go and I haven’t really witnessed one of the going moments yet. I told Grandpa it was me and that the twins were a boy and girl. He was so excited, like he was just finding out that I was pregnant for the first time – a few sentences later I realized he was. He had forgotten. I asked him to let Grandma know and we said good-bye.
As soon as I hung up, I knew it was going to be a bad game of “phone tag” like we used to play in Girl Scouts. Well, Grandpa called Grandma and let her know…..
Grandpa: Gary’s daughter called. (Gary is my uncle)
Grandma: Which one?
Grandpa: I don’t know.
Grandma: Well he doesn’t have any more girls. What did she want?
Grandpa: To tell you about the babies.
Grandma: Do you mean Lisa?
Grandpa: Yeah. Who does she belong to?
I chuckle, and then I cry. I’m used to cancer taking the people I love, not dementia. This is a new ball game for me and I haven’t found a glove that fits. Sometimes he doesn’t know who I am or who I belong to or that I am expecting. Selfish, I know, but it’s just abnormal for me. Then I blame myself. I’m not stopping by enough for him to remember me. I’m not reaching out to spend time with him when he can. And now….it’s almost too late.